


Sugarcoating The Issue

by myaso



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drabble, Health problems, Immobility, M/M, Medical Procedures, Weight Gain, obese, request
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaso/pseuds/myaso
Summary: Tarn's weight has gotten out of hand, but Pharma just thinks that's adorable.





	Sugarcoating The Issue

There were very few words that truly did Tarn justice. Descriptors of Tarn’s might often failed him-  _ especially lately _ , Pharma mused- and attempts to put his fearsome reputation into flowery speech always followed suit. Only one word stood out as appropriate, as the only one truly apt:  **Cute** . Originally, Tarn would have huffed and sputtered and threatened Pharma with some fantastical punishment whenever Pharma dared to call him that, but it was by more than luck that Pharma now found himself safe to utter it as much as he pleased.

Really, there wasn’t much that Tarn could do about  _ anything _ , these days, and that was just how Pharma liked it. The bloated warlord did little more than lay in bed, though he didn’t really have a choice in the matter; Pharma had watched his mobility wane nearly a year ago, right about the 600 pound mark. It was sooner than either of them had expected; especially Tarn, who had definitely thought he would still be able to waddle around for some years to come. Tarn’s legs were as thick as young oak trunks, and nearly as heavy, devoid of any muscle as they laid up uselessly in bed.  **Cute** . It was the only word to describe how absolutely ridiculous it all was.

“Tarn~!” Pharma’s sing-song voice called out from across the room. He watched Tarn attempt to turn his neck to the side, and then promptly give up as his collar of fat halted his movement. “I hope you’re not sleeping in again!”

The slightest sinister tone undercut Pharma’s voice, but Tarn seemed oblivious- that, or he was too tired to care. He panted, drool dripping from the corners of his lips as he opened his mouth to pant out,

“No-  _ hfhh _ \- ‘m awake.”

‘Labored’ definitely described the sound that left his mouth, but Pharma felt ‘breathing’ was a bit too generous. It was a rough, ragged wheeze, hampered even further by the dripping spit. Pharma tutted as he reached Tarn’s side, tilting up his head with one deft hand; even without properly feeling Tarn’s forehead, Pharma could tell that he was feverish.

“ _ Tsk _ , and here I was, about to praise you. Has someone been exerting himself again?”

It was all a game to Pharma. Tarn would do something to ‘break the rules’ and Pharma would swoop in to correct him, paying no mind to the actual cost that leaving him in that condition- even for a moment- incurred. Tarn’s health couldn’t snap back like it had been able to before he’d piled on the weight, and each little gamble that Pharma let himself indulge in put Tarn one step further over the edge. Today was no different, and Pharma tsked again as he let go of Tarn’s head, going to gather up more supplies.

Tarn’s wheezing grew a bit more intense as he attempted to watch Pharma work, but Pharma cut him off,

“You still haven’t answered me, Tarn. Have you been bad?”

Swallowing as much spit as he could before speaking, Tarn eked out a reply: “N-uh. Just been...laying here.”

“Mm. I find that hard to believe.”

Really, he didn’t, put again- it was all part of the game. There were no real consequences to Pharma’s actions (or, rather, Tarn’s actions that Pharma was always around to encourage), no serious repercussions; Pharma would scold Tarn and then shoot him up with whatever medicine was necessary for his current emergency, then they would both go on with their day. Pharma finished gathering up his supplies- an insulin shot with an extra thick needle, a blood sugar monitor, a handful of pills, and a cup of soda- and tapped the side of Tarn’s jaw impatiently.

“Open up, I don’t have all day.”

Tarn’s stomach growled an answer before the pudgy lion ever could, and the corner of Pharma’s mouth twitched. Tarn was nauseous. How  _ cute _ . Pharma tutted again, faux concern dripping off of him as he nudged the pills and soda up to his mouth, still determined to get them in even if they were inevitably going to come right back up.

“ _ Urrh _ …”

The pills managed to go down without consequence. Pharma patted Tarn’s forehead after he set the cup down, again feeling the heat emanate off of him as he did so. A murmured ‘good boy’ was all of the praise that Pharma was willing to dish out just yet. If this was a game, then praise was the metaphorical prize to be won, a reward for every ‘fun’ task completed. Sure, Tarn may have been miserable, but even he perked up a bit at the admiration that he would inevitably be rewarded with.

Pharma gave no warning before groping at Tarn’s stomach, trying to find a suitable fold to jam the insulin needle into. He was honestly adorable, like a giant, overstuffed teddy bear- except, well, teddy bear stuffing didn’t tend to be as lumpy and hard as Tarn’s fat was. Pharma grunted as he had to lift up a fold to find a more tender spot, and he heard Tarn’s stomach rumble again.

“You are  _ not _ going to vomit on me, Tarn!”

He heard something approximating a ‘yes sir’ warble out of Tarn’s lips, and the growling subsided a bit. Two of Pharma’s fingers rolled a bit of fat between them, and he felt confident that he had found a suitable place. There was no further warning after that, the needle going in with a loud, sustained yelp from Tarn- and, alongside it, a spray of puke. Pharma let out a noise of disgust, but didn’t move until the entire needle’s worth of fluid had been deposited into Tarn’s fat fold. Thankfully, not a lot, if any at all, had managed to spray out onto Pharma himself, instead just coating Tarn’s massive expanse of chest blubber.

When Pharma rose back up, he saw Tarn shaking, his eyes wide with fear. He was immobile, helpless, completely at the whim of Pharma’s rage- he had every reason to be afraid, really. Every reason except for one.

“Aww, sweetness,” Pharma leaned in to Tarn’s side, pressing a kiss to one mostly-clean cheek. “It looks like your pills stayed in your tummy,  _ good job, that’s a very good job _ …”

Pharma trailed off as he set down the needle and monitor, replacing both with a rag with which to begin cleaning Tarn. He would have gotten angry. He would have screamed, and shouted, and raised a fuss. He would have demanded something humiliating of Tarn on top of all of that, too, had he not found Tarn to be the cutest damn thing in the universe. He was  _ helpless _ ,  **_completely_ ** at Pharma’s whim- it was unbelievable. Pharma had taken a warlord, given him only the slightest nudge, and then watched him descend into absolute gluttony, until he was incapable of even wiping vomit off of his own marvelously fat face.

“Honey, I was  _ going _ to make you stand to be weighed today, but-” Tarn interrupted with a groan, a cough, and then another spray of vomit- this time including the pills that Pharma had just praised him for keeping down. “Yes, I know, that’s exactly why we’ll save that for another day.”

Kisses and pats were lavished onto Tarn, alongside a litany of verbal praise. His blood sugar monitor was forgotten at his side, along with all of the life-sustaining pills that he had vomited up- well, they weren’t  _ forgotten _ , per se. Pharma definitely kept them at the forefront of his mind as he comforted Tarn. Tarn was adorable when he was this helpless, when he was sick and confused and even more reliant on Pharma than usual.   
  
He was  **cute** like that.

**Author's Note:**

> You can go to my twitter (https://twitter.com/robotpornhell) to find out how to support me!


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